


Lathbora viran

by agesofaquarius



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amnesia, Ancient Elves (Dragon Age), Andruil - Freeform, Canon Divergence, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Elvhen Language, Elvhen Lore, Elvhen Pantheon, F/M, Fen'Harel - Freeform, Flemeth meddling again, History of Skyhold, Minor Cassandra/Varric, Minor Dorian/Bull, Mythal - Freeform, Solavellan, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:15:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agesofaquarius/pseuds/agesofaquarius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She awoke in darkness a year before, with no memory but her name and how to wield her bow. Now she searches for her lost life, trying to find any semblance in what she sees around her. The Arbor Wilds are unkind to any wanderer, especially one that has not eaten in days. By some circumstance, a powerful mage happens across the confused elf, saving her life...</p>
<p>The elf's eyes widened, pupils dilating as a rush of air left her lungs. Her mouth formed the word 'how' but no sound vibrated from her vocal cords. The elder woman laughed, knowingly. She held her hand out, the gauntlet looking as sharp and menacing as her dragon claws had. The armor was almost flawless. A small silk pouch rest in her palm. </p>
<p>"You will deliver this to a woman named Morrigan. She will be at a large meeting East of here. In the Frostback Mountains there is a place called the Conclave. There, you will find her and your memories."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The bright blue birds that nested in the Arbor Wilds hummed and whistled back and forth, trading secrets whispered through the trees for thousands of years. Silhouettes of leaves darkened her already dark skin, shadows creating stories over her skin as she sat beneath a mammoth tree that reached for the sky and touched the clouds. Her leg hung off the low branch, bare toes barely brushing against the bark of the limb just below the one she took purchase on.

Just before the horizon curved into fields of more green and blue, a single pure white halla shot across the scene, a stark comparison of the dark ferns and flora that grew under its hooves.

Valoll bit into the sweet bun wrapped in grease parchment. It would have tasted better a week ago, but she was limited on food and who knew when she would find game again.

After the bite, and a swallow from the water skin she kept tied to her belt, Valoll wrapped it back up and put it in her sack. Using one of the charcoaled embers from the last fire she made some months ago, she pulled a small notebook from her bag and marked on one of the many pages with a single line.

She flipped endlessly through the pages. At least half of the book was filled with marks, on both sides, with almost a hundred marks on each side.

Once back to the first page, a page with just a messy sketch she had first done after one of her many picture less nightmares, Valoll stared at it for a long while until one of the birds landed on the branch not far away and cleaned its feathers. Closing the bound leather notebook quietly, Valoll pulled her pack of herself and laid it in a notch of the large limb. Slowly, and with her palm facing upward, she offered her hand toward the bird.

It teetered at her, hopping away and then went back to cleaning its feathers. Valoll stayed steady, hand still stretched out, waiting. The bird, noticing, looked at the hand before hopping back to its first position to look closer. It peered into her hand, and pecked at her fingers, which gave her the perfect chance to catch it by the neck and pull it toward her chest, holding its wings back from hitting her face.

Valoll looked away, whispered a silent prayer, and snapped the neck of the creature. It went limp in her hands, the squawk in its throat dying.

A breeze cut through the leaves, their whispers sliding through the air like a low fog. More shadows of leaves cut across her skin, darkening the tan skin in certain places while the sun peaked through and made it shine like gold.

Hopping down from the tree, the twenty hands high drop making her bones rattle as her feet connect to the ground. The grass is soft under her bare feet, and she wiggles her toes as she returns the satchel back around her neck and did the same with her quiver and bow. The bird hung limply from her grasp as she moved through the trees, moving between the august rams and looked keenly for the white halla that had pass through her vision.

After walking east for some hours, the sun now just a glow of orange behind her, Valoll made camp underneath a tree. It was too small to be a bear den, probably a nest for nugs, if anything. She slipped between the roots and curled against the moist soil. Just outside the hole, she made a small fire, mainly for warmth and light, as she plucked the feathers from the bird.

One of the tail feathers, a brilliant blue that begun near the quill tip and melted into a blood red, held its strong shape. Pausing for a moment, Valoll ran her fingers through her long dark earthy colored haired. Her knuckles caught on knots and tangles. She winced at the sharp prick on her scalp. This was her price for not brushing her hair in months. Soon it would matte and have to be cut out. Once a strand, just behind her pointed ear, was loose and free enough to be moved, Valoll ripped a loose thread from her linen vest and tied the feather onto the strand.

The strand returned behind her ear and the feather only barely tickled her neck as she continued plucking the bird. The feathers were in a pile just outside the hole, and she would slowly add a few to the kindle, keeping the fire lit with minimum smoke. She took one of her arrows and used the sharp head to cut through the bird. She removed bones and useless pieces, which she would leave out for the spiders, and then plunged the arrow through the middle of the meat. Holding it over the small fire, Valoll kept her eyes on her surroundings as the meat cooked.

With a full belly, and the excess meat salted and wrapped up with the remnants of her sweet bun, Valoll walked near the other nearby trees and spread out the bits of the bird that were no use to her. Hopefully, no wolves would try to take her that night.

Valoll pulled a threadbare blanket from her satchel and cocooned her legs in it, certain her feet would not freeze in the middle of the night. Nocking an arrow into her bow, Valoll let her arms relax as she leaned against the inner roots and makings of the tree.

Her eyes were half-lidded, ears sharp and listening for any faint sound of predators coming her way. She didn't know where the real world ended and the Fade started.

A pure white halla stepped into eyesight, grazing at the soft grass that Valoll had not touched. Her scent was only close to the trees, and the halla would not scatter should the wind blow.

"May Ghilan'nain forgive me," she whispered so low even the winds envied her, before drawing her arm back as far as the inner part of the tree would let her. Her knuckles rested on her cheek, the feather tail of her arrow tickling her lips. She inhaled once and then as the air left her lungs, the arrow was released.

Time slowed, and for centuries she watched the arrow strike against the air, cutting through it like a hot blade spreading cream. Or did time even pass?

The arrow never struck the halla, for it stepped only a few patters away and the arrow struck the tree behind it. The halla was not troubled by the arrow, now embedded in the tree near by, and grazed more of the green grass.

Valoll sighed, and dropped her bow. "So much for that."

The ground shook, small droplets of condensation from the roots fell on her head and dripped down her skin, leaving streaks behind of where the dirt and grime had been on her cheeks. The halla looked up, ears pert in the direction the shaking was coming from, before its eyes met with Valoll.

Blind eyes. Cloudy and fogged, with soft golden scars that cut through the downy pink skin.

_You are forgiven._

The halla took off as the shaking grew nearer.

And then the cause of it came across her vision.

A giant, its face knotted and gruff like the roots around her, appeared, large hands swinging at its side. Valoll groaned noiselessly, rolling her eyes at her luck.

"Please let me wake up, please," she whispered, squeezing her eyes together until stars appeared. When she opened them again, the giant was still there, creeping closer and closer. They had horrible eyesight, but a nose that could compete with even the best mabari.

This wasn't the Fade.

Valoll looked for her best option. If she was quick enough, she could shoot across to the other tree, retrieve her arrow, and then climb up another tree. But then the giant would shake at it until she fell, either to her death or into its hands, which was the same thing.

She could leave the arrow and replace it that next day once she scouted for durable wood and more stones to make a head with.

There was no way she could search for it again. The tree were like a maze, each looking exactly like the other. Tall and board and never ending as they reached for the havens.

The arrow would be left.

Gathering all her things into her satchel as quietly as she could, Valoll held her bow like a club, ready to whack at the giant if it came for her. She moved past the roots, one hand taking purchase on one and pulled herself from the dark soil. Her back slid along the bark, eyes never leaving the face of the giant as it looked around.

It could still smell the smoke in the air from hours ago, the roast of the meat tinting the air and making predators come nearer. She had not thought of giants. They shouldn't be in this part of the Arbor Wilds, at least.

It looked like Ghilan'nain didn't forgive her, after all.

Her bare feet gripped the knotty roots, sliding along until her toes found another to take a step on. She was almost completely out of sight, when a dead root underneath her gave way and her foot was then trapped inside the tree.

Giants also had the keen sense of hearing like a mabari.

"Oh, Fen'Harel, take me!" she cursed when the giant began to lumber toward her, big hands raising into fists and ready to strike down on her.

Using her bow as a lever to make room to pull her foot out, Valoll felt the bark scratch and cut at the thin skin on top of her foot, the pad of it kicking off on the small roots beneath.

The giant crash into the tree, narrowly missing Valoll. Her foot slipped deeper, now almost to the knee.

It bucked into the tree again, hands grabbing for Valoll's small squishy body. She yelled in surprise as the fingers missed her again, instead grabbing at the roots and tugging. With her feet now freed, not even the black wolves could catch her she ran so fast.

However, a giant was a different story. Especially when there was _two_.

Valoll felt her ears pound with blood, adrenaline making her eyesight hazy as she felt the beginnings of tunnel vision. It was dark, the tree shading the moonlight from above, but she moved like a feline, eyes glinting off even the smallest of light as she moved.

Why were the giants even awake? It was the middle of the night. What could have caused them to be up and about at such an hour?

Valoll couldn’t think for too long, as she now had a large piece of earth being hurtled toward her head. Or was it toward the other giant that was chasing her? She couldn’t think on that for long either.

She found an opening, between two very close trees. Just small enough that the giants would have trouble getting through. Valoll dove for it, the boulder of fresh soil missing her by feet.

Her bare toes dug into the grass, kicking up dirt as she piston her arms by her side to give her that extra boost. The adrenaline had warn off as her exhaustion set in. Calm, wakeless nights were few and far between, and she had been hopeful of this one.

It seemed her hope was pointless.

She was mere steps away from leaping over the roots and making it through the trees, ready to disappear and climb up one of them while the giants found a way around. Life was not so simple.

Another boulder, this one made of thick stone, went soaring over her head and landed between the two trees. It would be impossible to climb over it with the little time she was given. Valoll curved her steps to go around, but either side would put her within arms reach of either giant.

"Fen'Harel take me!" she cursed again, now still. There was no option and the giants were closing in, competing with each other of who would grab the elf first.

Neither were successful.

A great and mighty roar cut through the air, rattling Valoll's bones and making the giant stumble in surprise. A high dragon, the color of fresh dark roses, swooped down from the trees and reached for one of the giants with a strong claw. It picked up the beast and then tossed it further than Valoll could see away. The other giant, who reached up to grab the dragon and bring it down, was covered in a spray of liquid fire and lightning, burning the creature to the bone.

It ran off, looking for a way to extinguish the flame, but soon fell and died slowly.

Valoll could only stare up at the beast, wings breaking limbs and breaches and it circled above her before landing gracefully on its hind legs. She could maybe outrun a giant, but a high dragon?

She would much prefer the Dread Wolf now.

The majestic dragon flapped its wings a few more times before folding the scaled appendages against his body and looking at the small elf that stared back up. In a growing cloud of smoke and ash, the dragon transformed into a woman. Her armor, equal to the deep rose color of her scales and combined with the dark gray of samite, glinted under the moonlight that poured through a small opening in the leaves left by her great wings. Her hair, tied and bound up in the same position as the horns on her dragon's head had been, was the soft white of agelessness.

"Well, well... what have we here?"

She greeted the elf, her wrinkled eyes brightening ever so slightly as she walked forward. Valoll took a step back when she deemed the strange woman too close, and then the woman stopped.

"Who are you?" Valoll asked, more out of caution than curiosity. The woman quirked a brow.

"Is that any way to greet someone who just saved your life?"

Valoll frowned. "I am grateful for what you did, however I do not understand why."

The woman laughed, however it was humorless. "Can I not do something so simple out of the kindness of my heart?"

Valoll did not answer, eyes still searching for an answer in the dark area around them. She also searched for an escape route.

The woman caught on and broke the tense silence, realizing the elf would not drop her guard so easily.

"My name, if you must have one, is Flemeth," the dragon-woman said, clasping her hands behind her back. Valoll relaxed, but only visibly. "I helped you, my young elf, because you seemed in need of it."

"I cannot repay you for your kindness," Valoll replied, the air cut sharply by the end of her sentence.

"Not in a monetary way, no," Flemeth said, and Valoll then saw her true intentions.

"A favor for a favor," the elf said, and Flemeth nodded in return.

"A favor for a favor," she echoed. Valoll held a brow up in question. Flemeth answered. "I have a package that needs to be delivered. You're going to deliver it for me."

Valoll let out an unamused chortle. "You're going to trust me with something of yours? What makes you think I won't sell it to the nearest merchant for my next meal?"

Flemeth gave a devilish grin, looking more like a dragon than a one. "Oh, I trust you, my dear. You do wish for your memories to return, don't you?"

The elf's eyes widened, pupils dilating as a rush of air left her lungs. Her mouth formed the word 'how' but no sound vibrated from her vocal cords. Flemeth laughed, knowingly. She held her hand out, the gauntlet looking as sharp and menacing as her dragon claws had. The armor was almost flawless. A small silk pouch rest in her palm.

"You will deliver this to a woman named Morrigan. She will be at a large meeting East of here. In the Frostback Mountains there is a place called the Conclave. There, you will find her and your memories."

Valoll felt the pouch in her hand. The fabric was smooth and the item barely held weight, but she could feel the slightest outline of the object.

"And no peaking."

She nodded with a sigh, placing the pouch inside her satchell. When she turned to ask the woman how she would find this 'Conclave', Flemeth was gone.

The dawn peaked on the horizon, painting dark rocks a soft peachy rose color.

Valoll stood alone in the middle of the Arbor Wilds, heart racing but eyes falling every few seconds with exhaustion. Would she be able to sleep before starting this trek east?

"How do I know I'm going the right way?" she called out into the empty air, and received no reply.

A soft neigh came from behind the elf. She turned, surprised at the off-white halla that stepped out from the bushes and stood before her. Valoll looked at it, and when it tossed its head in her direction, she took this as an invitation to hold a hand out. The halla pressed its wet nose to her fingers, catching the elf's scent, before bumping her palm. She dragged her fingers across its cheek to his thick neck, scratching softly at the downy fur.

"Well, then, let's get started, yeah?"

It pushed hot air out of its nostrils as an answer. Valoll nodded and with one tough swing, she pulling herself over the back of the creature. As her heels gently pressed into its hind thighs, the halla began its walk, pushing through the grass and trees as if its life mission was to get the elf to her destination. Valoll wouldn't be surprised if the woman named Flemeth had coaxed it to do so.

For a moment, Valoll was thankful for her leather trousers.


	2. Chapter 2

Valoll awoke with a scream bursting from her mouth, the dam holding back her tears breaking under the pressure.

The sorrow. The pain.  

Her halla companion lifted its head from the dewy grass, snorting at her for making such a sudden nose, before it rested again and slowly slumbered away.

The elf quickly wiped at her cheeks, rubbing the skin raw with friction as she erased any sign of her distress. Another morning ruined by waking from her awful dreams.

_“Your dreams are more than just your imagination. You dream in the Fade and see the memories left behind by those that came before.”_

Valoll sighed as the Keeper’s words echoed in her head. The explanation did not help her one bit. She could never remember what it was that awoke her, but the emotions were enough of an answer. Her belly ached and nausea washed over her.

Eyes. Red eyes. She could remember them, and that was the first she ever remembered from her dreams, from the Fade and its memories.

It stalked her like she was prey and it would eat her alive with a bloody grin. It stalked her for entertainment, the punchline of a joke, the one forced to run and hope they would escape its claws to win its game.

She looked up, eyes finding the distinct change of leafy green forest that turned into flatland and then shifted into sharp, snowy mountains. They had been walking for days now, four if she counted correctly, and this would be their fifth. They would be at the Conclave by the end of the sixth.

There had been others making the pilgrimage into the Frostback Mountains. A group of clerics, each dressed in clean white and red robes with gold accents, had their hands clasped together as they walked solemnly down the roads. The halla had kept to the trees, but Valoll watched them keenly, as well as looked out for bandits.

It was the night before that she had first seen the Soldiers of the Chantry. The Templars, she remembered hearing from afar.

They were dressed in thick leathers and steel armor, their emblem bright on their chest plates and swords tight on their hip. She made sure to not run into them. The clerics had been kind, waving sweetly to Valoll and offering her company on the journey, but she disappeared back into the trees with one tilt of her heels into the halla's side.

Her head tilted back until it landed softly on the cold marble that she had slept against all night. The soft gray was a smooth contrast compared to the greens around her. Her eyes found the smooth cut of the statue, the smallest accent nicks to show the ruffle of fur, the curve of an ear, the blunt eyes that held more than she knew about.

The wolf had watched the forest for her that night, protected her, but never saw her.

"May the Dread Wolf never hear your steps," she whispered, tongue rolling with the accents of her mother tongue, before switching to the King's language, the one she slowly remembered over the year since she first awoke.

It flowed with the breeze that tousled her hair over her shoulder.

The Keeper had retold the story of the Evanuris, the elvhen gods that they invoked during a hunt and during Arlathvhen, when the clans met to retell the story of the People, and during the midst of battle and during death.

Valoll and the halla had a late start that day. After they shared the last of her sweet bun, and drank heavily from the small stream near the road, the elf filled her water skin full with the cool water and they set out again.

There was a tiny village just before the land started to shift into an incline. Four buildings clustered fairly close with almost endless farmland behind the largest one. There was a woman, dressed in once-fine robes, at one of the doors begging for food. The door was slammed in her face.

When she turned, Valoll noticed the sharpness of her ears, but her face was bare of the markings she had seen on the other elves. She had not seen another elf like her, without their 'blood-writing' as they called it.

The woman slowly slumped down the small walkway, her arms wrapped around her middle to ease the pain of hunger. Valoll looked down at the halla for a moment, before sliding off (the blisters for their ride now scabbed and callouses around showing on the rubbed skin from the friction of the leather and the halla's back) as she dug into her bag for the last of the bird she had from the Arbor Wilds.

The other elf stopped near the gate, watching as Valoll dug around for the grease paper. When she found it, Valoll pulled it out and unwrapped it, the moisture of the night before leaving a sticky residue behind. She held it out for the hungry elf, and the woman gapped at her in surprise.

"Eat," she said firmly, holding it out.

The elf just stared at it. Valoll frowned. "It won't kill you. I just hunted it a few days ago."

The words felt awkward, and she was tempted to use the elvhen language instead, but this elf did not hold the same _vallas’lin_ as the others.

The elf then stared at her, her mouth trying to form words and when Valoll grew impatient, she took the remaining step, grabbed the woman's hand, and clasp it around the grease paper.

"Eat," Valoll repeated, before turning to walk back to the halla. It snorted at her cooly but waited for her to raise her leg and throw it over its back again.

"Wait!" The woman shouted, causing Valoll to pause with her leg half-raised. She lowered it and looked at the elf woman in the nice robes. Her face was flushed with embarrassment. "T-thank you. You didn't have to do that."

"You're hungry," Valoll says, with a slight shrug. "I know what it is like to be hungry for days on end. No thanks needed."

With a nod to herself, she continues the leap onto the halla and it slowly begins to walk again.

"W-wait! I'm sorry, wait!"

Valoll sighs, and the halla complains when they pause again. The elf jogs to catch up, one hand grasping the meat to her chest while the other pulls up the hem from her dress.

"A-are you going to the Conclave?"

Valoll raised a brow. What exactly was going on at this gathering? She had heard, in passing and from Flemeth, of hundreds of people would be there. About what, however, she was unaware. She nodded and the elf sighed in relief.

"May I w-walk with you? I don't feel s-safe with bandits in the overpasses and I have someone that will pay you for your trouble when we arrive!" She said quickly, making it slightly difficult for Valoll to understand, but once the words fell in order, the rogue elf sat for a moment, contemplating. Payment meant gold, and she would surely need it after delivering Flemeth's package.

With a sigh, Valoll fell to her feet on the ground again. With a soft nod toward the trees to the halla, a snort in return as a reply, it turned and walked back into the treeline. Valoll pulled her small notebook from her satchel and made a quick, uneasy mark at the bottom of the page. They were replaced immediately after.

"Come, we have far to go," Valoll said, waving toward the other elf. She rushed the last couple steps to catch up and then they fell in a silent walk.

When they reached the path that led up the mountain, the woman spoke softly.

"My name is Shae. ' _Ma serannas, falon_."

Valoll looked at her from the corner of her eye. "No need to be so formal, _da'len_."

Shae's eyes brightened considerably. Her tongue poked out between her teeth as she smiled. Her bare cheeks grew rosy.

"I am Valoll."

Shae repeated the name, letting it roll off her tongue and tried to move around her thick accent, but the hard vowels and the roll of 'oh' and 'l' made her pause.

"You don't have a simpler version of it, no?"

Valoll shook her head. "The name the man told me when I woke up."

Shae's brows shut up to her hairline. "When you woke up?"

Valoll nodded, hand going up to reposition the string of her bow. It was cutting into the side of her neck. "I woke up about a year ago with no memory. This man, gave me my bow and my notebook, before he told me my name was Valoll and set me off. I've been in the, ah, Arbor Wilds, is it? I've been there ever since."

"So you're... not Dalish?"

Valoll nods, again. "As far as I'm aware. I came across a few clans. They were not very friendly, but I stayed with one for some time before they traveled further west. I was heading east."

Shae was a small noise in her throat. "I was Dalish. On my tenth summer, my magic came. There were already three others... my clan couldn't handle any more and sent me off. I found the Circle and they taught me how to use my magic. I am grateful for them."

_Was Dalish._

Valoll gave the other elf a solemn look, but interest took over. "The Circle?" She questioned.

Shae hummed, before explaining. "You probably wouldn't remember, or even know. It is a school, I suppose you could call it, led by the Chantry to help those learn to control their magic."

The dark haired elf nodded to her companion, adjusting her bow again.

They walked in a comfortable silence from there, only speaking when Shae offered a soft thanks as Valoll helped her over some fallen boulders and steep rocks. As night fell, they camped under a small alcove in the mountain, Shae's magic keeping them warm. At the sound of bandits, however, they sat in the cool air, Valoll ready for them to attack with a nocked arrow. The bandits never found them. They slept in shifts.

As the sun rose, they started their journey again. They would reach the Conclave by nightfall, should the snow not slow them down any more than they were already walking.

Shae shared with Valoll the last of the bird in the grease paper, and they both prayed that there would be more food at the Conclave. The snow only slowed them slightly.

"Valoll, what _do_ you remember? I mean, from before you woke up and the man told you your name."

She was silent for a moment, trying to cipher through what she had learned during her past year and what she remembered on her own before the man informed her.

"How to shoot an arrow," she answered, almost automatically. Her hand subconsciously came up to position the string across her chest at a different angle. It had been cutting into her neck. "He said I was the best of my faction, only second to him."

Valoll looked to her companion. "He was like you. The magic, I mean. A... mage, is it? He said he healed me, but the damage had already been done.

“All you remembered was how to shoot an arrow?”

Valoll gave a loud snort of laughter, shaking her head.

“Muscle memory, _da’len._ ” Valoll chided, and the mage felt her cheeks flush in the cold brush. “I do remember more with each passing day, but it is very faint.”

“Such as?”

Valoll looked at Shae from the corner of her eye. “You’re a very nosy one, aren’t you?” The girl’s cheeks grew brighter, and Valoll chuckled.

“I apologize, _falon_ , I did not mean to overstep your kindness.”

The elder of the two shook her head. “No overstepping to be seen. I just find it odd that you’re so interested in me.”

“You’re an interesting woman, Valoll.” Shae’s accent made the rolling of her tongue odd, and she pulled a rather odd look as well. “Valoll… such a strange name. I’ve never heard something like it before.”

The elf could only shrug before speaking. “I remember my… mother. Or, I think she was my mother. Very kind. Beautiful hair the same shade of the moon reflecting on smooth waters. But she was firm, as well. Punished only when there was no other options. There were others like me, although we were not siblings.”

Shae watched the changing emotions on Valoll’s face. Curiosity reshaped into nostalgia, and from there it warped into sorrow. Remorse. Regret for memories she could not remember and when she tried it made her head pound in frustration.

“She wounds wonderful,” Shae said softly. Valoll finally smiles.

 _She was_. _She was the best of them all._

Before Valoll can question her new friend on her own past, Shae goes rushing past, stumbling over loss rocks on their path. She made a sound that surprised the archer, and quickened her steps as well to follow. Shae stopped at the crest of the hill and stared.

The snow was a reflection of oranges and pinks from the waning sun, but in the distance, Valoll could just barely make out two lines, one coming from the west and the other from the east, marching in almost perfect sync with one another. They still had much of the day to travel, but finally seeing their goal renewed hope into the duo.

“The Conclave,” Shae whispers, almost in awe, her pale blue eyes following the line coming from the west. The others of the Mage rebellion, both apostates and Circle mages alike that looked to find compromise in the battle that had been waging for endless times. “We’re so close, Valoll…”

The archer stood behind the mage, eyes flipping between the two groups. Which side would this Morrigan be on? Or would she be a neutral third party meant to keep the peace?

“Come, _falon_ , we’re almost there!” Shae exclaimed, grabbing Valoll’s free hand and the two went rushing down the hill, arriving back onto a path. Others soon followed, many dressed in the same robes as Shae. Valoll awkwardly walked beside the mage, glancing around. She felt out of place in her leathers and bare feet. The snow soaked through Shae’s soles, setting a chill in her toes, but Valoll walked confidently with bare feet, however she was slightly hesitant when they grew closer and closer to the two lines.

Shae seemed to be gravitating toward the line coming from the west.

The line of armored men coming from the east held dirty eyes in the two women’s direction. Valoll kept her eyes down, toward the snow and picking out each specific piece of snow she would step on so not to make eye contact.

“Shae! Shae!” A small voice shouted across the never-ending snowscape, before a woman with skin the same color as freshly turned soil appeared against the bright back drop. Her robes were the same deep blue of Shae’s, and her curly hair puffed out from her head like a cloud that followed to try and smother the sun of her smile.

“Odette!” the elf cheered at a volume that should not be known to this realm, and the two clashed somewhere in the middle, falling in the snow and laughing as two children would. Valoll smiled as she watched on, and stood a few feet away, giving the two girls a moment to each other.

The dark skinned girl pressed happy kisses to the elf’s face, speaking quickly in a language Valoll was not familiar with. Shae answered back fluently, she could suppose, and the two rolled for a moment before they sat up.

“Odette, _mon cherie_ , let me introduce you to someone,” Shae says, pressing a kiss to Odette’s cheek before smothering it with a grin. “This is Valoll. She helped me here.”

Odette looked up, pushing her hair from her eyes. Valoll was surprised at the tears that watered in the corner of her brown eyes.

“ _Merci! Merci beaucoup_!” Odette said, and Valoll could only assume it was something similar to giving thanks. The elf nodded to the woman. She looked away as the two kissed a lover’s chaste kiss. The two held the moment timidly between each other, to the best of their ability. Others looked on with small disgust, but the mages were not fazed.

Valoll walked away from them, but kept between the two marching lines, searching for a better view of the Conclave.

This was it.

This was where Valoll would learn of who she was before she awoke with nothing but darkness to remember. The man had told her to look east, following where the sun rose every day, and continue until it fell behind her when the moon took its place. He had spoken softly but urgently, kissed her temple much like a father to a young child, and sent her on her way with a bow and a notebook.

Her notebook.

Valoll pulled the bound parchment from her satchel and made another mark on the page with the charcoal ember. Once it was closed, she could only look on solemnly. Replacing them back into her bag, packed neatly against her blanket, her fingers brushed against the silk pouch.

This was it.

Shae tugged on Valoll’s elbow, pulling her through the snow as Odette took the lead.

“Where are we going?” Valoll asked her, stumbling over a boulder buried under the soft fluff covering the ground.

“I want you to meet the rest of my Circle! They will simply adore you, Val!”

The elf could not comment on the shortening of her name before her hand came loose from Shae’s own and they separated in the thick of the crowd near the entrance of the Conclave. Valoll did her best to keep up, stepping on toes and shoving through the people to keep close to the two mages who were giggling to each other in their native tongue.

She lost them in the winding hallways.

Valoll kept near the wall, out of the way of the many servants – _elves_ , they were _elves_ , just like she and Shae; some had their cheeks and foreheads brilliantly covered in _vallas'lin_ while others were bare and held short looks with her. When the hall became thick with people again, many of them excitingly murmuring of ‘the Divine’ and ‘something to finally end the war’, Valoll turned into a quiet hall and took some moments to herself.

Now to find Morrigan and deliver her end of the bargain.

Making her way to the other end of the hall in hopes to go around the crowd, Valoll stopped short outside a pair of doors. It had been the strangest sound… She took two steps before a very distinct voice cried out for help.

Was someone being attacked?

Valoll took a deep breath and looked to both ends of the hall. There was no one to the left and to the right was nothing but a crowd that she could not hear herself think over.

She opened the doors quickly, looking at the scene with surprise.

“What’s going on here?”

And then there was a bright flash of light.


	3. Chapter 3

The world was quiet.  

She walked the small paths through the village, taking note of the empty houses and the quaint tavern that sat unused. The clouds, heavy with rain of an oncoming storm, churned above her head threatening to spill its secrets. 

Soft footsteps fell behind her as she rounded by the temple again. She looked down at the bare feet that were twins to her own, save for the small blue veins pressing against the pale skin and his slender toes.  

"I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised to see you here," she said softly, looking up from the toes to the leather straps that crisscrossed across his legs. A simple piece of armor compared to the usual bronze-tinted ironbark that he wore more often.  

His side smirk met her dead tone.  

The dark pelt over his shoulder almost engulfed half his body, but he was muscular compared to the others, caught in the routine of the wear and tear of battle and war. A war that had been going on for almost a decade now. She hummed in mirth at the thought of how far they had come.  

"You are in my sanctuary. I do believe it is only right that I greet those I am protecting." 

She laughed aloud, but it was dry.  

"Protect? Is that what you call it? You're no better than the ones that label themselves as gods yet are like the soil under my feet." 

"That is my soil you are stepping on," he retorted and she laughed again.  

"I apologize for offending the earth." 

"As you should." 

They had stopped walking, and with each reply, his body seemed to loom closer and closer to her own. She could feel the heat coming from the pelt, enchanted to battle the cold of the Crossroads. The hairs on the back of her neck and across her bare arms stood on end, a chill washing over her. He moved closer. 

"Cold?" He asked, voice low and eyes looking at her deeply. She didn't give him an answer before smirking and turning to walk off. He mumbled after her, "Very cold indeed." 

She only got a step away before his hands grasped her waist and pulled her back toward him. The silky texture of her dress slid under his fingers, bunching up easily and offering a tantalizing view of her bare ankles. The small chain around her left ankle jingled with the single charm of a tooth wrapped in elegant wires. 

A single reminder that she was forever bound to him.  

" _Vhenan_ ," he hummed softly to her, lips like a feather on her neck. "Wake up." 

 

Valoll awoke slowly, eyes crusted over with her what-seemed-like-days of sleep. She came to from her dreams like emerging from a spring of warm water. It slid over her skin in intervals, leaving more and more open as the seconds went by until she opened her eyes to the dim light of the barely-there candles near the bedside and light shining through the single window of the home.  

The Breach tinted the sky green, flowing heavy with magic that made her bones ache like a bad knee when winter cold set in. She sat up, back knotted and tight from laying still for so long. How long had she been unconscious?  

No more than a night at most, but it felt so much longer. Like a millennia had passed and she was suddenly awoken into a new world.  

It had been barely a week since the attack on the Conclave. A week since she last saw Shae and Odette and lost them in the long, filled halls. A week since the explosion that rocked the entire south of Thedas.  

She was in Haven, a small cluster of homes and a chantry located only a few hours worth of a walk to the Temple of Scared Ashes. There had been talks since she had awoken, writs read and interpreted in ways that Valoll would never understand, but she was to help them. She was their only hope. 

Her left hand lifted up to her face, the cut in her hand spilling out soft green light. It had stopped spreading, the cut barely reaching the ends of her palm. But there were small tendrils branching off, staining the veins in her arm with a tint of the magic. She never understood magic, how it moved the air around them to create something new from what seemed like nothing. But something couldn't come from nothing.  

_She didn't come from nowhere. She didn't just appear in that temple with nothing but the clothes on her back._  

With a sigh, the hand dropped down to the bed again. She subconsciously reached for her satchel, hoping to thumb through her small notebook once again before reminding herself that it was gone. 

Lost in the blast that killed thousands, including the Divine. And yet she lived. While her memories were still fuzzy of the event, she remembered running into the sanctuary at the sound of a struggle and being caught in the middle of the ritual that caused the blast. The faces were blurry, not as clear as the others she had come to meet, like she was looking through a veil of shimmering water at them.  

With another sigh, Valoll propped herself up until she was sitting with a slouched back, hands limp in her lap as her fingers traced over the edges of the cut of the mark.  

While it had become a habit to make marks in her notebook, simply for the reason of doing so and no other defined purpose, it was a habit she could break. Her bow was replaceable, and had been replaced by Harriet when she awoke. It took them an afternoon of testing bow strength and weights, but she found the one that felt closest to what she was comfortable with.  

But the small silk pouch that held the key to her memories, was gone. Ash now, more than likely, and it frustrated Valoll to no end. Not only was she not going to find out who she was before all of this, but she had now broken her end of a bargain, something that was too unlike her for her to be comfortable with. How was she to get in contact with the woman now? Simply shout her name to the skies and hope Flemeth heard?  

She laughed to herself at the thought.  

Valoll began the day with a relax pop of her back. She was used to sleeping in tree roots or on the ground, not the soft downy mattress she had been given upon their initial close of the First Rift. They had closed others in the surrounding area, farmers and clerics shouting of demons as they came running from the woods. It wasn't incredibly hard to down them. Between Seeker Pentaghast, Varric with his one-of-a-kind Bianca, and the elf mage Solas, there was plenty of fighting power in her small band of warriors.  

With each day she drew stronger as well, toning her body with the long walks through the mountains and fighting demons. Her bow arm had hurt for the first few days, as there was so much time between her using her bow, but now her fingers were sore from the blisters and callouses reforming.  

Once her back was clear of any knots, Valoll went about washing the sleep from her face, looking to continue the day with clear eyes. They would leave for the Hinterlands that day, searching for Mother Giselle at the Crossroads.  

She shrugged on her leather coat after lacing up her tunic, pulling on the leather trousers that would keep her warm in the cold mountains, tucking the ends of her tunic under the waist, and laced up her boots. Leaning against the backboard of the bed was her new bow and quiver, as well as a plate of what looked to be breakfast on the bedside table. Valoll shook her head but picked up a piece of the buttered and jelly-smeared bread to fill her belly with.  

The young elf servant that she had first met once awakening in Haven had taken it upon herself, she had been told by multiple others that she was given no orders, to watch after Valoll and make sure she was taken care of. It was a sweet notion, but Valoll felt slightly off about knowing the girl could sneak into her room without waking her up. Valoll was a light sleeper, it was the prey-paranoia in her thinking such a way, but that girl was quieter than a shadow.  

Haven was cold, but not as cold as she expected. There was patches of snow on the ground and on rooftops, but she had not seen it snow during her time in the village. Her breath came out in small clouds of white, nose running red from the chill that set in her extremities. It wasn't cold, but when that wind blew down from the mountain it dropped the temperature noticeably for a few moments.  

She smiled in passing to Varric, the dwarf sitting beside his fire with a pad of parchment propped up on his knee. He softly returned it, but seemed lost in his thoughts immediately after. Valoll didn't disturb his writing.  

Cassandra was more than likely training the new volunteers with the Commander, if the loud grunts and clangs of metal on wood were any indication. Leliana was gathering reports from her spies and issuing orders, spreading news throughout Thedas of the Inquisition's reinstatement. From what little she understood from the writ of the Divine, Valoll gathered that the last Inquisition had broken apart centuries ago as it melded with the Chantry and formed what was now the Templars and the Seekers – Cullen and Cassandra.  

The two warriors had very different views of the world, of how they should handle the oncoming battle and war between the Mages and Templars, but they also held similar views with Valoll and between themselves.  

"I see the chosen of Andraste has come," a deep voice said off to her left, and Valoll had to pause for a moment. She felt the shiver of déjà vu. Looking up, Solas stood at the top of a small set of stairs carved into boulders. Valoll had already visited Adan and spoken to him about healing potions and handed off Master Tegan's notes when she happened across them while looking for the logging stand just outside Haven for Threnn. Solas had not been in his small hut during that, and now that she thought about it, she had seen very little of him during the week. They had spoken very briefly, namely for introductions, back at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and nothing more. 

There was the slightest bit of mirth in his voice, and it made her lips quirk as she stepped toward him. "The blessed hero sent to save us all," he continued and it made a laugh bubble up from her belly.  

"I don't see myself riding in on a shining steed anytime soon," she replied, coming to a stop a comfortable distance away.  

"I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly, they are extinct."  

"I'm sure I could find one of those famous Grey Wardens I hear so much about, somewhere near by if I needed a substitute." 

His eyes flashed with a humored glint. Curious dark brown met molten copper. They both questioned themselves of why they had never spoken together before.  

He turned away from her, looking out over the expanse of Haven. Another shiver caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle.  

"Every great war has its heroes," he began, voice creating a story that swirling in the snow around them. "I've travelled deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields, living through the dreams of lost civilizations." His hands clasped behind his back. "Dreams of battles both famous and forgotten." He turned back to Valoll. 

"What kind of ruins?" She asked, interested. Valoll remembered the many she came across, the few that some Dalish used as camps. Had they seen the same ruins? 

He seemed pleased at her question. "Any building strong enough to stand the test of time has a story. Battlefields are heavy with spirit activity, they press against the Veil, weakening the barrier that separates our worlds. When I dream in such places, I see things no other living being has ever seen." 

Valoll could understand the Dalish sleeping in ruins, they had probably done so for generations and had each other to watch their backs. But doing so alone? "Isn't that dangerous? Falling sleep in the middle of ancient ruins, I mean."  

The mirth returned. "I do set wards, and as long as you leave out food for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live." 

Valoll nodded, understanding that. She had done the same for countless nights, but even then her fear of such an enormous creature tend to make her sleeps restless.  

"That's a very impressive feat, _falon_. Then again, I may be biased. I don't remember much of my time in the Fade, if any at all."  

He opened his mouth to speak, but paused, almost as if the meaning behind her words had shocked him like lightning.  

"You don't remember your dreams?" 

Valoll shook her head, crossing her arms with a prickle of heat attacked the tips of her ears. He looked past her for a moment.  

"Finding the remnants of a thousand-year old dream is worth more than anyone could ever trade me." 

She almost thought he was gloating, but the way he said it... there was the slightest crack in his voice.  

 "I am curious to see what kind dream this war will leave behind, what kind of hero you will be in the coming years." 

_Hopefully a good one_ , she thought, but the way he looked at her told her she had said it aloud. He didn't mention it.  

"I will stay then, at least until the Breach is closed." 

Valoll felt a frown. "Was that ever in doubt?" 

He looks to her with pursed lips. "I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a Mage Rebellion." Valoll felt the heat on her ears trickle to her neck and cheeks. _Of course, you idiot. "_ Cassandra has been accommodating, but I'm sure you can understand my caution now."  

"Cassandra will help keep you in favorable light. She owes you that much, as well as I." She shifted from one foot to the other. "I would like us to become friends, Solas. You can trust me." 

He said nothing, his face almost expressionless as he searched her, looked for a tell of a lie or for a secret motive, but instead he found sincerity, something he hadn't seen in a very long time. 

"You continue to surprise me, Valoll." 

She smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment." With a parting nod, she walked away, rounding toward the chantry. There she found the Left and Right Hands of the Divine talking quietly to one another. Cassandra was bristling with what seemed to be anger, but Leliana had a calm and cool expression. At the sight of Valoll walking up, Leliana cut the conversation and Cassandra seemed to bow up even more.  

"Herald. Josephine was looking for you. She is in her office, if you will go speak to her. When you are done, come find Cassandra or I and we will get you on the road to the Crossroads." 

Valoll nodded and changed her course yet again. The two Hands went back to their quiet arguing, one a fist and the other relaxed but ready to reach for a poison laced dagger. 

Inside the chantry, a few clerics were huddled behind a column to fight the cold, their heads together as they whispered prayers. Valoll stepped past them silently, careful not to pull attention to herself, and then she stepped into the side office that was shared by the Ambassador and the Demon Researcher.  

"My lady! I was looking for you earlier. I had a few questions to ask." 

The elf nodded and took a seat in front of Josephine's desk, readying herself for the many unanswered questions she knew she would be asked.  

"We don't know much about you, as I'm well aware you know. You told Seeker Pentaghast that you awoke a year ago with no memory." Valoll nodded in confirmation. Josephine continued. "Many nobles who are interested in supporting us find this strange and are uneasy at your unknown identity. They wish to put a name to a face, and cannot do so." 

"What are you suggesting, Miss Montilyet?" 

"Please, do call me Josephine." 

"Only if you call me Valoll." 

The ambassador seemed to tense but nodded, returning to the topic at hand. 

"Is there any clan you know of that would welcome you as one of their own? I'm certain you've come across a few who would help give you a stable, ah, home clan, I believe is the word." 

Valoll shook her head but paused. There was one... "The Lavellans," she said, almost too soft to even hear herself. Josephine leaned forward, quill ready. "The Lavellans. A clan in the northern part of the Arbor Wilds. I stayed with them for some months, not too long ago. They moved further west, but they shouldn't be too hard to find again." 

"I will send a messenger right away. Is there anything you would like me to put in for you?" 

Valoll stilled, head searching for the words. "'Thank you'," she said, and Josephine nodded, hand already spelling out a letter to the clan. "Is that all you needed?" 

Josephine wrote a few more words before pausing. "Are you being treated well here in Haven?" Valoll raised a brow in question at what she meant. Josephine chose her words carefully. "Has anyone, ah... called you 'knife-ear'? Treated you unfairly? Mistaken you for a servant?" 

Valoll had to cover her mouth so not to laugh too loudly. Josephine seemed flush. 

"Josephine, please. I'm certain no one could mistake me for a servant." She help up her left hand. The green glow washed over her tan face, turning her brown eyes a strange mixture of green and gold.  

"I am just looking out for you, Valoll." 

She snickered again at the way Josephine said her name. Standing, Valoll leaned forward to speak softly. "You can call me, Val. Save you a bit of the trouble."  

Josephine almost looked relieved, nodding. The two said their farewells and the elf went looking for the Hands of the Divine. They had moved away from in front of Leliana's tent, the spymaster nowhere to be seen, but Valoll could see the top of Cassandra's head in front of Varric's camp fire, the dwarf speaking animatedly, his broad hands moving around as he pulled some bullshit story out of his ass and the Seeker wasn't taking any of it.  

Valoll walked to them, taking her time, and by the time she returned, Cassandra had opened her mouth to yell at the nonsense that spilled from his lips, but Varric interrupted her.  

"Firefly! Ready to get this show on the road?" 

Valoll paused. "Firefly?" 

"Yeah, you know, the glowing hand thing." He motioned to his own left hand, and she raised her own to look at it. The mark, while it left no physical mark other than the permanent glow, did tingle at the thought. She left out a a loud exhale of air and lowered it back to her side. "So, uh, let's get moving. No time like the present." 

"Should I go get Solas?" 

"No need. I am here."  

Vallol looked over her shoulder at the other elf, and she smiled to herself at the sight of him. He had a relaxing presence. She repositioned her bow across her chest and did a double check of her arrows in her quiver. She had her new satchel hanging at her side, a bedroll resting on the small of her back.  

"Well then, what are we waiting for?"


	4. Chapter 4

Valoll smiled fondly at the hunter as she handed over the packs of ram's meat and the bundle of wool she had skinned from the dozen or so that she killed for the small village of farmers and refugees. Her group looked on with a mixture of respect, surprise, and impatience.

"Herald, I must protest that we leave these tasks for the scouts and go to find the Horse Master."

The elf turned to the seeker, her brown eyes suddenly hard.

"If you have a problem with how I'm handling things, Seeker Pentaghast, I will happily find you a horse back to Haven." The dwarf of their group let out a nervous laugh, slightly shocked by the elf's blunt defiance and amused by the look on Cassandra's face. The apostate of the group gave only the softest of chuckles, but Varric heard it.

"That is certainly not the case, Herald. I simply – "

"You believe these people should simply starve? Or freeze to death?” The elf was obviously challenging the seeker, and Cassandra reluctantly stood down. “We will help them. Even if it means putting off our mission for a few hours. They told us Master Dennet’s home is along the West Road, it should not be too hard to find. Unless you doubt my navigation skills?”

Cassandra bit her tongue. “No, my Lady Herald. My blade is yours. I will follow you.”

The hardness around Valoll’s eyes softened.

“Thank you. Now, I believe they spoke of a rift near the lake. Once we’ve investigated I will turn our direction back to Master Dennet.”

They trekked up the side of the steep hills. Valoll took the time to take a chisel to the raw deposits of iron and carefully pocket the elfroot that was growing amongst the grasses and shrubs. It was as her feet hit a small cobble stone path off to the side of a decrepit castle that she felt the tingling in her left hand. Valoll looked down at it momentarily. The usually dormant glow of the mark was now bright, even in the mid-afternoon sun. She clenched the fist, but the tingling grew until the mark almost _hurt_. It was when they rounded the ruins that they found the green tear in the air.

Valoll instantly nocked an arrow, drawing her bow tight as she lined up her shot. There was the slight coolness of a barrier being put up, and she briefly glanced toward the group’s mage (for only a moment) before releasing the arrow. It made its mark in the throat of a shade, but it only did so much damage. 

She kept the demons from straying too far from the rift, antagonizing them when they grew too adventurous and tried to slink away. Her arrows angered them and made them return. It was a full team effort, killing the demons and weakening the pull of the rift enough for her to close it. It felt like every atom in her body was being split apart as she reached forward and slammed the rift closed. It took much effort on her part, and Valoll found herself faint and in need of water.

“Herald?” Cassandra asked inquisitively, kneeling beside the elf as she sank against the cold stone of the castle. The Fade was thin there, she could feel it tingly in her hand. It was said that the rifts opened where it was thinnest, pulled and tugged and stretched like old cloth forced to grow with a growing child. She clenched her hand into a fist.

“Give me a moment. I am still not accustomed to this.”

The warrior nodded but stood guard, in case any stray demon or bandit showed their face. The dwarf took a seat on a rock not far from them, and their apostate companion looked stoically into the distance. She drank from her water skin, pressing a handful of it onto the back of her neck to cool her off. Once her heart evened out and her knees did not feel week, she stood and crossed her bow over her chest.

They began to move once again, only pause to mark a spot for a camp that seemed fitting for Leliana’s scouts and new soldiers that would soon join them.

The small stone paths leading down from the cliffs was slick with moss and dewing soil. She almost slipped once, mind still hazing from the rift, but a firm hand from both Cassandra and Solas kept her upright.

“Herald, are you certain you feel well? We could take rest at the camp, at least until you’ve rested.”

Valoll ignored her, continuing their descent into the chaos that soon surrounded them.

“Look at the apostates! They’ve gone made with power.”

“The Templars aren’t making it any better, Seeker.”

The elf ignored her two companions and nocked an arrow, loosing it at one of the rebels that came running towards them. She hid behind a crystal of ice jutting from a rock, nocking another arrow.  She and Varric shared a look before she bound around the other side of the ice and loosed another arrow, hitting the apostate in the shoulder. He gripped it, both hands free from spellcasting and the dwarf knocked him back with a bolt through the chest.

They nodded, and went after the next.

Then they took on guards patrolling in front of a broken fort. Then scouts from a small camp and rogue Templars that crossed their paths when coming to the large, broken bridge. Valoll had loosed all her arrows, save for two, and would be of no use from long range until she found more. The elf wasted no time and begun to wade through the low-rise water where the bridge was worst. The seeker tried to protest, but Valoll only gained more ground to put between them. The dwarf chuckled, falling behind. Their elven apostate ever the quiet one.

It was the wolves they came across that made her fully pause. The air around them tingled the same way a rift would, but not as wrong. Their eyes glowed a strange yellowy-green, growls deep and duo-toned, like it was trying to say more with its animalistic ways. Valoll did not bother to waste her last two arrows. When they pounced to attack the crew, she used her bow like a staff, swinging with full strength as they got in arcing distance of her bow. She felt the bow almost give in her hands, but the wolf yelped with pain in its ribs and as she took another swing for its head, it scampered away to nurse its wounds. The other two were relentless, and she could tell the others were growing weary of their constant fighting.

They were rest for the day, after speaking with the Horse Master.

And speak with him they did.

 Valoll felt tension bow up in her shoulders and neck at what the man asked of her. More demon wolves? And surveying?

“Would you protest to us making camp outside of her farm? There’s a small pond and an abandoned cabin.”

The master shook his head. “I would give you my stable, but there is no room for your bunch. Take any spare land you like, Inquisition.”

She nodded her head in thanks and turned to leave the master house.

They settled in the spot behind a projection of rock, not too far from the river that they had crossed not far back. Her hand tingled, as if to signal another rift was near, but she ignored it for the most part. The tents were easy to prop up, flaps tied open to let the warm air move as it pleased. There was the beginning of a fire pit but no fire. That could wait for once the sun left.

Valoll sat, staring at her quiver with its two arrows. She was too tired to go hunting for materials and it would be at least until the morning when the Inquisition came to pick up the camp for them. The elf slumped.

“May I?”

She looked behind her, staring at the palms of the elf that offered his skills. Reluctance met him in answer, but he gently rubbed his hands together, fingers lighting up in an orange glow as he warmed them.

“It will only take a few moments, _lethallin_. I can feel your stress from across the lands of Thedas.”

His smug look only made her deepen her frown, but she turned her head away from him and slipped out of the rogue jacket she was given. It pooled around her waist, sleeves crossed in her lap. She unlaced the collar of her tunic and let the material slip down her shoulders, but not fully. She was still covered, only flaunting the sharp cuts of her collarbone and strong archer shoulders. 

The Seeker gave a sound of disgusted protest, but the moment the warm palms met her tense shoulders, the world melted away.

There was no Breach. No rifts. No mark, no herald, no Haven, no Conclave. No Thedas.

The warmth eased the knots in her muscles, soothed the sore ones that were used increasingly more and more every day.

This was only their second day in the Hinterlands and already she was wishing for the safe haven of her cabin up in the mountains. She would close rifts as they asked, but this? All the diplomacy? She still wasn’t entirely familiar with the language, although Sister Leliana and Lady Montilyet were working diligently on rectifying that.

They would spend a third day helping Dennet and his needs and possibly a fourth clearing out parts of the hills of rifts.

But there was no time to think of those needless quests that they were making her run around on. The Inquisition needed horses. Master Dennet needed help with his farm so that he could supply the horses. It was a fair trade.

Valoll sighed loudly, not in relief but in defeat, and the warm palms stopped. She didn’t realize she had made the sound until he made a noise of his own in question.

“I’m sorry, Solas, my mind is far too busy with other things. I can’t relax. Thank you for your help but…”

She trailed off, her tongue growing thick in her mouth as his long fingers eased up from her shoulders and to the base of her hairline. His thumbs rubbed away the oncoming headache, nails lightly massaging her scalp. Valoll would have fallen asleep in moments if he had not stopped and brushed her hair back into some sign of semblance as before. When she opened her eyes, Varric and Cassandra were staring at them both with mixed looks.

Varric, one of chagrin, and Cassandra, one of distaste. Curse them both.

“That should help,” Solas said, moving away from her and settling against his pack some distance away from the fire pit. Valoll instantly yearned for him to return to his ministrations but she would live without it. For now. When dusk hit, the fire was sparked quickly, and they sat about eating what rations they had packed.

A raven was sent to Cullen. They would need some of his troops to build the watchtowers for Dennet.

 

 

Valoll knelt beside the dead demon-wolves, head bowed. She laid her bow beside her, angled away from the frozen, and fur-bared bodies. Her companions watched on, curious.

Then, after only a few moments, she took one of her arrows – supplied by the Inquisition but sharped to her tastes with a stone she found in the bed of the pond they camped by – and began to cut the pelt of fur from its meat.

"Herald, pleased, I must-"

"You will not disrespect these creatures, Seeker Pentaghast," Valoll cut her off sharply. "If you so please, feel free to go back to the camp. Otherwise, shut your mouth until I am done."

Varric took point on a stack of rocks, easing his short body down onto them, and watched. She worked methodically, like each movement had once been part of a routine that she took part in on frequent occasions. The elf never looked to her companions during the entire event, never cared for their opinions of her 'savagery' nor took notice to their looks. Solas, who had first looked on with amusement, soon morphed into something else.

Something... familiar.

Like he was remembering an old dream. A faint dream. A dream he wasn't even sure happened. After all his many quests and journeys deep into the memories of the past, they seemed to blend together after some point.

There was a... flash. Blue silk and braided hair and eyes like fresh honey poured under sunlight.

The opinions of their Herald, however new to the title she was, were obvious. Respect, frustration, and mirth were common. She was a woman who did not remember her life but they could tell that she lived a good one from her decisions and quick wit. She was certain of things she wanted, and when she didn't know she quickly decided with weighing the long term consequences, not the short term ones.

Solas, of all of them, found that part most interesting. She could think ahead and clearly, like playing a game of chess or, even worse, Wicked Grace.

Once the pelt had been cleared from the meat of the wolf, she carved away the parts best for eating and wrapped them in bits of slicked papers that had been holding their rations. They would have plenty to get them back to Skyhold, and even some to add for those at the Crossroads.

The dark fur of the wolf was folded over, the wet side of it touching so not to make a mess of her new armor and leathers. Valoll bundled the skin under her sleeping back at the base of her back, and stood once again, bow in hand.

"Let us inform Master Dennet that the wolves have been taken care of."

The trek wasn't long but when they came across a second rift just under the waterfall, they quickly had to fight off the demons. This one was stronger than what they were prepared for. Valoll felt the ice of the beast cutting deep into her skin, chilling her through blood and bone. Even the warm tingle of Solas' shield did barely enough.

The wisps of green souls that shot her with fade energy were quick to go down, but the icy despair demons and long, twisting wraiths proved to be the change. Her arrows only did well when her enemies were not fast, but that had proven to be difficult with this bunch. She missed many shots, cursing herself further when she ran out of arrows. With quick, quiet steps, Valoll vaulted across the terrain and pulled her missed arrows from where they landed. She only had a half dozen or so before the despair demon charged for her with a wave of icy magic. She lifted her arms to shield her face, waiting for the coldness to wrap around her, but instead she felt the tingle of a barrier. The magic was more of a slight breeze instead of a blizzard, and with one well aimed arrow through the throat, the demon fell into a pile of green ash.

Valoll looked to Solas, nodding in thanks, before walking under the rift to close it with the mark.

This time, even though her bones still lit aflame, she was able to keep moving after only a few moments of rest.

"Let us continue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, to all of those that believed in me.   
> Here's to a better year.


End file.
